Saturday, March 15, 2008

Just for grins and giggles, we decided at 7 this morning to see what it would be like to pile 10 people into a 6x10ft laundry room. I wish I had thought to grab a camera, but it wasn't high on my list of priorities at the time.

It all started when I was awakened to the feeling of someone gently rubbing my arm (and no, it wasn't my hubby's amorous attempt to arouse me...he knows better than to do that without a cup of joe in tow). I turned around to see Grandma, who had braved the stairs and come to wake me up on a Saturday morning...I knew something had to be wrong.

"Tornadoes-have-torn-up-downtown-Atlanta-and-there's-a-tornado-warning-in-effect-here," spilled out of her mouth instead of a cheery "Hello!" My loving and supportive husband, always jumping up to help in time of need, rolled over and said, "What did Jesus do in the storm?" *zzzzz...*

So I hobbled down the hallway and turned on the t.v. to FOX 5 Atlanta just in time to see the meteorologist announce that a tornado was on it's way east from the town just west of us, traveling at 60mph, and would hit us in about 2 minutes. I'm sure you can imagine the mad dash to get all five children out of their beds and downstairs into the laundry room, along with five adults, one labrador retriever, a washer, dryer, and one large kitty litterbox.

The baby and the 3 yr.old. obviously could not understand why we had snatched them up out of dreamland and hustled them into a crowded and boring laundry room. Encyclopedia Brown (9) and Little Princess (6) seemed to be somewhat excited and not much alarmed. But it is in times like these that we get a firm reminder of just how much the Sensory Processing Disorder still affects the Quiet One. While the rest of us were quite calm and fairly certain that this was all just an unnecessary precaution, Q was in total distress. He was clearly horrified and certain that, despite our firm assurances, he was sure to lose all his favorite earthly possessions and that we all would be injured or even killed.

Thankfully, after years of taking him to occupational therapy, we are armed with the right tools for diffusing his panic. Daddy held him and squeezed him tightly (much more tightly than you would normally hold a child) and we all started singing. Now don't get me wrong...he didn't make a full recovery until we had been back upstairs for about 10 minutes. He still flipped out every time someone opened the laundry room door, but his eyes weren't quite as big and his face wasn't quite as contorted or red. The funny thing is that working with him this way has become so natural that my hubby didn't even realize he had done this until I mentioned it.